


Self-Delusion

by Tarlan



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Prosthesis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-05
Updated: 2012-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-04 21:39:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having delivered his message to Mulder, Alex finds temporary comfort in self-delusion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Self-Delusion

**Author's Note:**

> Scene tag from Season 5 _Patient X/The Red and the Black_  
>  Written for: **mmom** 2012 Day 05

Alex turned his back on his one-time partner and moved quickly to the door, closing it behind him. He leaned against the wall for a moment and released the breath he had been holding, bowing his head as a fine trembling shook his whole body. His lips still tingled from the roughness of bristles from where he had kissed Mulder's cheek; a dangerous move even when his quarry was already down.

A dangerous move for an entirely different reason too, bringing back desires that he'd thought buried and long forgotten.

He pushed himself upright and moved into the stairwell, taking the steps one at a time until he reached the lobby. Opening the door a crack, he gave a quick glance into the lobby but ducked back quickly at a glint of red hair seen through the entrance hall doorway. He watched as Scully headed for the elevator, waiting until she was inside and the elevator door closed before making his move.

Several hours later he was sitting alone in the latest in a string of dingy motel rooms, still stunned by his actions. What had he done? And, more importantly, why? Why had he scratched open that old wound when it could lead only to heartache. After all, this was the man who liked to use him for a punch bag whenever their paths crossed... except for tonight when, for once, he had held the upper hand.

Deny Everything.

Except there was intentional denial to hide the truth from others, and then there was self-delusion, refusing to believe in the truth even when it was staring a man in the face. Somehow, Mulder had crossed that line into self-delusion, losing his belief in the X-Files, and Alex had been sent in to give him a reason to believe once more.

He should have just delivered the message as instructed, and walked away.

Antagonizing Mulder by kissing him was a mistake, and he would pay dearly for it at some future time when their paths crossed again, and yet he couldn't stop the moment playing over and over in his mind. When he closed his eyes he could see Mulder sprawled on the floor with his back to the wall. He could smell his aftershave, could taste it on his lips, mingled with the saltiness of Mulder's skin and the powdery remnants of make-up from the television studio. He could feel the rough texture of a five o'clock shadow scraping against his lips, and recall the way Mulder had started to turn into the kiss.

Or was that a self-delusion on his part?

Alex wanted to believe that there was something to that aborted gesture. He wanted to believe that Mulder had wanted the kiss to linger. He knew he was only fooling himself but now he had picked at the scab on that old wound, the desire for Mulder was bleeding out of him once more. He slumped to the floor, back pressed up against the side of the bed.

Self-delusion.

Yet would it be so wrong to delude himself into believing Mulder could desire him too, if only for a few minutes?

With jerky movements, hampered by the prosthetic, Alex worked open his pants and drew his hard cock into the cool air. For once, the prosthetic hand worked to his advantage as he placed the fake palm and fingers around his cock, feeling the touch ignite nerve endings along the length without the distracting feedback from using his real, tingling fingertips. He closed his eyes and imagined it was Mulder's hand on his cock, and pushed himself into the circle of plastic, feeling it warm with the friction but the skin dragged uncomfortably, forcing him to make a decision to reach up and snag some hand cream from the bedside drawer.

He smoothed the cream over the plastic and tried thrusting gently again, moaning as this time his cock glided perfectly. He set up a rhythm, angling his fake hand until he could apply just the right pressure along the length and against the sensitive tip.

Alex closed his eyes again, letting images of Mulder fill his mind; the scent of his aftershave, the taste of his sweat. He could hear Mulder's voice, deep and almost monotone, describing all the things he would like to do to Alex--touch him, kiss him... fuck him.

The final image of Mulder throwing him face-first against a wall, dragging down his pants and shoving his thick cock up Alex's ass sent Alex flying in ecstasy, momentarily lost in the pleasure.

When he came back to himself moments later, he kept his eyes closed just a little longer to maintain that glorious illusion but, eventually he had to open them and face the empty, dingy motel room and the mess of come splattered over his prosthetic hand. With a bitter sigh, he pushed up from the floor and cleaned himself in the small bathroom. Afterwards, he settled down on the bed, back against the headboard, and grabbed the bottle of vodka on the bedside table, pouring himself a generous measure.

Silently, he raised his glass and gave a toast to self-delusion, before letting the alcohol burn down his throat in one swallow. If he lived long enough, he hoped he would find a reason to delude himself again one day.

END


End file.
